


A Reflection of Static

by Quartzitedecadence



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Makeup, Memory Loss, Vague Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quartzitedecadence/pseuds/Quartzitedecadence
Summary: Taako doesn't look at the mirror. There’s no need to. The reflection is static anyway, it isn't practical to use something he can't see.When he brushes on makeup, it doesn’t make sense how a brand new face appears. Is it his?





	A Reflection of Static

Taako doesn’t bother looking in the mirror anymore. It messes with his head. He is sure that his face was fucking fantastic, thank you very much. However, he isn’t sure why his reflection is static. Not completely, which he is glad for. Just a tiny bit. Enough to make it a nuisance. It tugs at his heart.

 

His assistant doesn’t say anything about it. He’s known the man for as long as he had this job! If he doesn’t say anything, it isn’t important. Maybe it’s just him. Everyone compliments his looks. It's all in his head. Not a problem.

 

But his job is to be fabulous for the audience while providing them with information on cooking. The second part, he has gotten done. The first part isn’t something he could adjust. His earlier shows were not as polished as to the current times. It’s about time he upped up the ante.

 

After one of the shows, the cook tries gazing at the mirror for about five minutes. More than his cursory glance out of curiosity.

 

He doesn’t recall why he’s on the ground. He doesn’t recall why people surround him. He doesn’t recall what was in the mirror.

 

Taako grins and tells them that he’s fine. That he is only exhausted from traveling for so long and he isn’t inclined to leave his audience waiting for him longer than he intended.

 

They don’t bat an eye as his assistant helps him out of the attention. Attention’s great and all, but Taako needs some of that alone time.

 

Sleep isn’t easy. His dreams are of static, filling him with an overwhelming sense of fear. The fear he couldn’t begin to define. Good thing elves don’t need sleep anyways. Meditating functions. Sleep just gives him a reason not to work.

 

Before the next show, he meets a young elf, whom he assumes is one of his fans if it isn’t because her shirt flashing the logo of the show.

 

When she catches sight of him, her mouth goes agape. The elf composes herself, “You’re Taako!”

 

“Yup, the one and only,” he says, feeling pride as his fame has reached this prosperous town.

 

“Can I ask a question?” She says, her hands clasped in front of her.

 

The chef hums, “I mean, you just did, but go ahead,” he urges her with a swipe of a hand.

 

“Howdoyou- oh- How do you keep your face so young? I tried everything, makeup, lotion, something about the healing properties of plants- yet you always have such clear skin. How?”

 

“Well, I, for one, wash my face every night… with soap,” he pops the last consonant. Uncertainty bleeds through his voice. He isn’t sure. He is aware of the proper hygiene of keeping clear skin and face. It is a ritual by now.

 

The thing is, he doesn’t know what his face looks like. His nose is pointy, and that is found by touching it. Measuring his face is menial labor when one could be able to face the mirror and be greeted with the image of one’s face. When Taako greets the mirror, he gets a headache and a bunch of static. That’s not fair.

 

The fan says, “Oh, so keep it simple? No makeup?”

 

Taako hesitates, “Simple, though you might want the makeup. Accentuates everything, you know.”

 

She nods.

 

The chef leaves it at that and finds himself walking into the bazaar. Maybe he should follow his advice. Makeup covers the face, so if he uses then he can change his reflection. By changing his face, then he shouldn’t see static! Now, that’s simple. Why didn’t he think of this before?

 

Does he even know how to use makeup? He swore he knew someone who was amazing at it. Just who?

 

The bazaar is prosperous with stalls of various items: spices, paints, clothing, about everything he can name. Vendors shout for customers. Taako knew some of them calls out for him, but he continues on his journey. Searching for the balm of Gilead.

 

Nothing quite pops out to him other than the sparkly eyeshadow at this stall. He immediately stops in his tracks to examine the loot. Something twists in his gut when he sights the darker shades, so he averts his attention to the brighter shades. His hands itch. It was tempting to swipe it under the eyes of the seller. He didn’t, someone could be watching. He _is_ famous. Plus he has all the money he needs for once.

 

Taako picks up the eyeshadow, a shade of red he knows he can rock. Then a realization strikes that he needs foundation, blush, lipstick, mascara, highlight, and some more. It doesn’t make sense why he remembers that. There is this one time he had the makeup to please a relative. Nothing before or after that.

 

He plucks out the rest of the requirements of the table. Once he is satisfied with the amount, he promptly shoves it to the seller, “How much?”

 

Not that much. About a good portion of a tenth of a show’s earnings. Easily gained at another show. Considering the amount and  _quality_ he got, it’s a bargain.

 

He plops the coins on the table and departs with a bag of supplies to render the next show even better.

 

At the caravan, he brushes the foundation unto his face with ease. It was like using a pastry brush… kind of. For some reason, his aversion to mirrors disappears as he gazes at himself painted with the makeup. Taako huffs out a laugh, “Holy shit. Holy shit!” He could see himself! Not quite crystal, but pretty damn good. It’s still a bit blurry, especially at the eyes, but it doesn’t gift him with a terrible headache. Score.

 

With the rest of the makeup at the desk, he utilizes them. He doesn’t count the minutes as he blends the blush or directing the eyeliner. He blinks at the reflection. There he is. A face defined under a layer of pigment. Lips a hot fuchsia, eyes a mixture of glitter gold and pink. Is this him? Guess Taako’s gonna get the boys tonight.

 

The event becomes a ritual. The entertainer repeats this ritual for every show, then every day, reveling in the feeling of being able to see his face after the year of static. He gains a bunch of compliments and questions about his skincare. His assistant raises an eyebrow at first as Taako _never_ wore makeup in the first place. He offers to help the chef. Taako shoots him down. The occasion was Taako time.

 

It’s only a couple of years he forgets to plaster foundation before looking at the mirror. He jumps back as soon as he realizes to grab a blanket to cover the mirror. But he doesn’t need to. His face is seen. Nothing of that stupid static. Nothing of that color. Just Taako’s face. His raw face. It’s not something he recognizes.

 

What he does recognize is that he lost something.

 

Dread fills him up. He can’t tell what he lost. He can see himself. He doesn’t get the headache. It should be a blessing. It’s a blessing! It has to be. His sight is being blurred again, but not because of the static. No, no, no, he can see. This is what he was waiting for. Taako _did not_ lose anything. He remains gorgeous.

 

Taako exhales, wiping the tears away. Taako doesn’t cry. Not for this reason. His hands trail to the brushes, lingering on them. He should be taking advantage of this.

 

The show must go on.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you ever wonder how Taako looked in the mirror? Lup and he were twins after all, and sure he prides himself to look different than her sometimes. 
> 
> They have the same face! So when Lucretia decided to up and erase the memory of Lup, wouldn't looking at the mirror be harder for Taako because it is a constant reminder of his sister. Due to the Voidfish's doing, it would make sense to eliminate the need for refreshers for memory since he knows what his sister looks like. The audience doesn't know who Lup is, so it doesn't affect them.
> 
> I also wrote this because I have a Lucretia fic that's going way to out of hand and this is a meager break from it.


End file.
